The Fountain of Dreams
by nat rulz
Summary: A reluctant prince holding a ball. A dying girl. A beaten boy defying the odds to save her. A chance meeting. A desperate race against time. Love has a habit of blooming at the most inopportune moment there is. HPSS slash. Complete!
1. The Market

**Title: **The Fountain of Dreams

**Parings: **Harry Potter/Severus Snape

**Warnings:** Mild child abuse, some violence (because of the former), slash (which should be apparent) and, to top it all off, a touch of angst

Disclaimer: Not mine, poems are (quite proud of those really :)...)

**Summery: **A reluctant prince holding a ball. A dying girl. A beaten boy defying the odds to save her. A chance meeting. A desperate race against time. Love has a habit of blooming at the most inopportune moment there is. A very different look at Cinderella

**Author's note: **Back again. Welcome, dear readers, to a very different version of Cinderella. I know, I know, its been done. But in my opinion there's so many ways to tell a story that no one could ever exceed them all. This version, I can promise you, is quite unique. Disregarding the use of magic its also a quite believable—and if you disagree then I'll plead poetic licence (or is it creative licence? Oh well). In any case, enjoy the story and remember to read and review! So here it is, part one of four parts (Figments Forever all over again!) ready, set, go!

_Will you buy my treasured things?  
My lace, my comb, my art?  
My silk, my clothes, my finery?  
My daggers, hair or harp?  
It's not at all expensive  
Its real as evening dew  
I tell you what, because you're smart  
I'll cut the price in two!  
You simply must try my meals  
My cooking is the best  
My food is quite exotic  
And outshines all of the rest  
Don't walk away, come gaze a while  
I know that soon you'll fold  
But heed my words, be careful child  
Or you'll lose more than your gold_

**Part One: The Market**

"Get up! Get up, you lazy boy! _Now_!"

Harry awoke abruptly, his dreams shattering into a thousand pieces. He heard the sound of his aunt's footsteps as they retreated and knew, from experience, that he had five minutes before they returned. If that happened it would mean a beating. He deeply considered waiting it out, just to spite her, but he had burnt the dinner the night before and was still smarting from his uncle's chastisement. He wasn't up to another. So, reluctantly, he got up, barely managing to stretch in the small place that was his cupboard, and dressed swiftly.

He made his way immediately to the kitchen. If breakfast was late and Dudley left hungry too long it would mean a beating and, as stated, he really wasn't up to another so soon. With a sense of routine, he began making bacon and eggs, working himself easily around the kitchen. He noticed, as he worked, that they were almost out of eggs. Looking at the fridge he saw that butter and milk, as well as a few other things, were also running low. He'd have to inform his aunt and she would no doubt send him to market.

Market was always fun, especially in the Hogwarts Kingdom. If Ron was free, he sometimes came along and, once they got there, they would always duck into the Book Shop where their good friend (and Ron's love interest) Hermione worked. It was a rare treat because Harry only saw Hermione once a week and Ron every few days. It was hard to see his best friend when the Dursley's almost never let him out.

Harry had known Ron Weasley since he was eleven and he and his family moved into their neighborhood. He knew, because Ron had told him, that their family had once been very poor but all this had changed when his father, a member of the Royal Army, had been promoted. It was a good thing, really, because with seven children the Weasley's could use all the money they could get.

Ron had, at first, thought Harry was a servant. He had been appalled when Harry had patiently explained that he wasn't paid for his work and that they were not his masters, they were his family. Ron had, unfortunately, seen the marks that said family gifted him with whenever they were displeased with him (which was, he could admit, annoyingly often) as they were, after all, a little hard to miss and Harry had told him that, as a minor, there wasn't anything he could really do about it without being thrown into an orphanage.

Ron had been adamant that he should tell someone but Harry explained that while he was not really a servant, legally his guardians could claim him as one. His chores, they could say, was his payment for their care. Since there were no laws regarding the mistreatment of servants, his beatings could be seen as legit punishment for not completing his work adequately. Though usually a servant was hired and given wages, the laws were so tangled that loopholes were easily found. A servant wasn't always hired; after all, they could serve a family if they owed that family a debt. Even in this situation, however, (the one that Harry himself was in, according to his aunt and uncle) the servant was treated well and paid (however little) for their work.

When Ron pointed this out, Harry had told him there was no law on how much a servant was paid and so his relatives had decided to pay him nothing, reasoning that his work was his payment to them for their care. Though his _'masters' _were his guardians there was no law objecting to that—simply for the reason it never happened. What sort of family, after all, would take their own charge as a servant? Since he had no money his wages could not be cut (the usual punishment for a servant doing his chores badly) and the beatings could be seen as a substitute for that. In Harry's words, it was brutal, it was cruel, but it was legal. Whatever his relatives were, it wasn't stupid.

Ron had gone to his father with this information and his father had confirmed Harry's words. He had, however, been horrified with how the Dursley's had been manipulating the law to beat their own nephew and had, since then, been quite an advocate for child and servant rights. Since his power was quite small, however, his protests went all but unnoticed.

"Boy!" his uncle called, disrupting Harry's thoughts "Where's our breakfast?"

Harry, hastily finishing up, put the food onto their respective plates and made his way to the dining room, awkwardly carrying the plates with him. It was moments like this that he wished his relatives let him use his magic. Servants always did, to help them clean the house, but his uncle had said, quite harshly, that he wouldn't allow any such shortcuts in his house. Dudley delighted in this, for he used whatever little magic he had (which was, Dudley being quite a weak wizard, very little indeed) to make Harry's job even harder. This gave Ron yet another thing to complain about but there was, once again, no law saying that a servant (or anyone, for that matter) could not be forbidden from using their magic. Harry used it in secret, of course, in order to keep it honed, and often stole Dudley's magic books in order to learn more (servants were usually of age and, therefore, already schooled. If they had children it was up to them how they were educated- at home or at school- and, the Dursley's, being Harry's guardians, chose neither.)

"Sorry uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia" Harry said politely as he served them their breakfast "We are running out of everything, and I had to improvise a little to make enough"

"You'll go to the market today then" Petunia snapped at him "And because of your lateness, you'll get no breakfast"

"Yes aunt Petunia" said Harry who, having foreseen this, had stolen some toast while cooking

"And you better not forget anything" Vernon warned, "I won't have you missing another day of work because you did."

"Yes uncle Vernon" Harry replied. "When am I to leave?"

"Off with you now, your making me lose my appetite" Petunia said stiffly, summoning some gallons from the room beyond (they trembled in the air as she fought to hold them there) and handing them to Harry "I'll be counting what you come back with"

"Take so much as a knut and you'll be punished, boy" Vernon added, glaring

"Of course" Harry said, pocketing them. Some days he would make a sarcastic remark at that but he was in far good a mood to start an argument.

"Off with you then" Petunia said harshly "And you'd better be back in time to make dinner"

Harry certainly didn't need telling twice. He was out of that house as quick as a flash and made his way immediately to Ron's house. Ron lived at the other end of the street and, luckily for Harry, he had to pass that way in order to get to market. He practically ran there (despite the pain in his ribs) and knocked heavily on the door which was (after a hell of a lot of _'I'll get it' _from inside) flung energetically open

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley called, drawing him into a bone crushing hug (Harry winced even as he smiled) and gushing over him

"Hello Mrs. Weasley" Harry greeted breathlessly and she finally released him before dragging him inside

"Hello Harry" Mr. Weasley greeted him, amused. His amusement faded rather quickly, however, as he looked at him. Harry shuffled nervously

"What's that on your neck?" He demanded, walking forwards to take a closer look. Harry rose a hand automatically to it and winced as his enquiring fingers touched upon a bruise.

"Er… a bruise?" Harry said awkwardly

"A bruise?" Mrs Weasley cried, horrified "Let me see"

She looked at it intently, touched it reverently, then looked at him with sad eyes

"Let me fix it, dear" She pleaded, "It looks rather bad"

"Its fine" Harry insisted "Uncle Vernon will only be mad if he thinks I've been healing myself"

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips, her opinion of his uncle quite obvious, and Harry hastily changed the subject

"Is Ron here?" He asked her "I get to go to market today and I was wondering if he wanted to come"

"Of course, dear" She said, still sounding upset "RON!"

A thunder of footsteps sounded before Ron appeared in view

"Harry!" He cried joyfully when he saw him. He too, however, noticed the bruise. He frowned at it and looked at Harry

"What'd you do this time, Mate?" Ron jested

"Burnt dinner" Harry said swiftly "Want to come to market with me?"

"Oh! Can I mum? Please!" Ron pleaded, turning to Mrs Weasley, who nodded indulgently

"Of course dear" she said, eyes on Harry "You two be careful now"

"We will ma'am," Harry promised, grabbing Ron's arm and pulling him from the house "We will"

Ron shouted a last farewell before they tumbled onto the street and the door closed behind them. They immediately began their journey (it was a half hour walk) and started catching up. Ron explained all the spells he had learned and taught them to Harry who, as always, preformed them flawlessly

"Your so bloody powerful" Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief "I need a wand and all you have to do is flick your wrist. It's a pity the Donuts don't let you go to school"

Harry laughed at Ron's nickname for the Dursley's (he always seemed to be inventing new ones) and nodded his agreement

"I'm lucky I've got you and Hermione, otherwise I'd know nothing and all my so called power would be for naught" Harry said smiling

"I can't deny you it, though" Ron said sincerely "You've such a rotten life it's nice you've got something going for you. Power will help when you're old enough to get a job and, as powerful as you are, you could get a good one"

"My life isn't so bad" Harry said mildly "I have you."

"And I've got you" Ron returned "No offence, mate, but your getting ripped off"

Harry laughed again and Ron marveled that, no matter how persecuted and downtrodden Harry was, his laughter was always sincere and carefree. His eyes were always sparkling. It seemed that everything he endured make him stronger and more filled with life than ever. He had never seen Harry hurt another human being (he, who knew what it was to be hurt) and he thought that Harry was one of the few people in the world who was treated horribly and, because of this, wanted to make sure no one else was ever treated so.

"How's the rest of your family doing?" Harry asked, still smiling "I didn't have a chance to say hi"

"Ginny's sick" Ron informed him "But that's around it"

"Sick? What's wrong with her?" Harry asked, looking concerned. Ron smiled at him. Always worrying about others was Harry

"A virus of some sort" Ron told him "She should be fine soon. If she isn't by the end of the week mum will get a healer to look her over, you know, just to be safe. Ten gallons says she's faking"

Harry smiled at him and shook his head in mock despair

"Your on" Harry said good naturedly

They spent the rest of the trip discussing magic and (of course) Quidditch. They laughed over Fred and George's latest jokes and despaired over the stupidity of the Dursley's. Time always does pass more swiftly when one is having fun and so it seemed like no time at all that they arrived at the markets.

"We'll get what I need first" Harry said "Then we'll visit Hermione. That way, if I forget anything, it'll be a simple matter of ducking back to get it"

"Sounds good" Ron said, "I'll help you carry them"

Harry thanked him and then they were off, Harry mentally ticking off every ingredient they needed.

"Milk?" he asked

"Check" Ron replied in a firm voice, obviously enjoying himself

"Eggs?"

"Check!"

"Flour?"

"Check!"

"All that other crap the Dursley's make me buy?"

"Check and check!" Ron cried, smiling

"Wonderful" Harry returned, grinning "Well that's that done. Lets go scare Hermione"

"Don't you mean visit Hermione?" Ron inquired and Harry smirked

"Of course. Visit. That's what I said, isn't it?" Harry asked innocently, as they made their way to the bookshop.

"Of course, how silly of me" Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Harry smirked and raised a hand to his lips. Ron nodded, smiling evilly, and together they opened the door, Harry subtly casting a silencing spell so that the bell wouldn't sound. Hermione was, as always, sitting at the desk and reading. Her mother, who owned the store, saw them but they each raised a hand to their lips, begging her to remain silent. Her eyes twinkling, she nodded and watched, with an amused smile, as they approached Hermione who was still deeply emerged in her book. They waited until they were a bare meter away and stopped. Harry raised his hand, three fingers upright. He dropped the first, Ron watching them closely, then the second and (in slow motion) the third

"Hermione!" They cried together

Hermione jumped a mile, the book falling heavily to the floor as she gave a shriek of surprise

"Ron! Harry!" She exclaimed when she saw them, pulling them into an exuberant hug. A moment later she pulled back and smacked them both on the arm "That wasn't funny!"

Ron and Harry were still laughing, showing quite clearly their thoughts on the matter. Hermione glared but, under their shining eyes, it didn't last long and she soon pulled them into another hug

"I missed you guys!" Hermione cried, "We don't see each other enough"

"Well we've got all day today" Harry told her cheerfully "come explore the markets with us and we'll catch up"

"Oh! Can I mum?" Hermione pleaded, turning to her mother who, looking amused, nodded. Hermione squealed with happiness and, grabbing both their arms, pulled them urgently from the shop.

Even though there was a market all week, every second week it changed. The theme would alternate every second week, each named for a founder of Hogwarts. When the market was on a Gryffindor week one would expect to find red and gold colours, weapons of almost every type, Defense Against the Dark Arts books, long flowing robes (red and gold, of course) as well as many other things associated with Griffindor. On a Hufflepuff week one would expect to find black and yellow colours, books on healing and self-help, objects that shone and were pretty but served almost no purpose (and were, thus, excellent gifts), modest but stylish dresses and many other things associated with Hufflepuff. On a Ravenclaw week one would expect to find blue and bronze colours, bow and arrows of every nature, books on just about anything one could name (though they specialized on Arithmacy, Ancient Runes and Astronomy –the three A's as they were called), dresses that were beautiful, elegant and mostly in blue and many other things also associated with Ravenclaw. On a Slytherin week one would expect to find green and silver colours, daggers of almost every shape and size, books of a slightly darker nature (such as a Dark arts- although quite a lot of the books were on dueling), robes that had a tendency to billow behind you as you walked and many other things associated with Slytherin.

This week it was Slytherin week

As a result the eager trio was swamped by green and silver. Despite already having been exposed to this while they had been shopping and despite the fact he had already complained about it twice, Ron lamented about the choice.

"I don't like Slytherin" He said grouchily "Too green for my taste. Besides, there's never anything useful. Gryffindor's much better"

Each family was known for looking up to or admiring a certain founder of Hogwarts. The Royal family even represented them. Kind Albus Dumbledore represented Hufflepuff. Most kings did. It was thought a King should be kind, generous and also unbiased and Hufflepuff certainly fulfilled the quota. Most thought Dumbledore more Gryffindor than Hufflepuff but tradition was tradition and the king was almost always Hufflepuff. He was only ever not if he decreed it so—and usually that didn't get too great a reaction among the people. A Ravenclaw king would be too logical, a Gryffindor too foolhardy and a Slytherin too harsh. Hufflepuff was a much-honored house because of this.

Queen Minerva, however, was Ravenclaw through and through. A good attribute for a queen, she guided the King whenever he needed a push in the right direction. Level headed and very bright many looked up to her for wisdom and a few thought that, in regards to the ruling, she probably made a lot of the decisions. Considering how much the King loved her, this was most likely true.

Then, last of all, was Prince Severus, the Slytherin. He was cunning, sly, intelligent but fair. A nice blend of both his parents many eagerly awaited the day he would take the throne and claim the Hufflepuff house. Though his demeanor would never change (he would always be a Slytherin at heart, and in mind) it was only the title that mattered and, for the most part, that's all the people cared about

When the Prince married (when he finally did so that is. He was in his early thirties and hadn't even come close) his bride (or even groom. There were potions for male pregnancy, after all, and it had happened many times in the past) would take the title of Gryffindor.

The names, at the end of the day, really meant absolutely nothing but peopled who looked up to a certain house (eg. Hufflepuff) would usually look to the head of that house for guidance and help. In a situation of crises it made things a little easier that people usually preferred their problems to be solved by a certain head. That way the royal family all got their share of problems to work out. The ones referenced to Gryffindor were split between the three equally.

"Harry?" Hermione called to him "I wanted to show you this new spell…"

Harry blinked and turned to her, watching intently as she talked avidly about all the spells she had learnt and showed how to perform them to Harry. As Hermione was quite a bit more clever than Ron (who had no trouble admitting it) the spells were a bit harder and, thus, took Harry longer to do

"Well done Harry" Hermione said, beaming with pride as he showed her his success "Your so talented. I really do wish those horrid relatives would let you go to school. It's a crime against nature to allow otherwise!"

This was one of Hermione's most passionate arguments and Harry smiled at her indulgently

"What do I need school for?" Harry said teasingly "Your smarter than any teacher I could possibly get"

Hermione blushed bright red (causing Ron to snigger quietly behind his hand) but didn't drop the argument

"But there's no substitute for experience, Harry. I may be smart but I'm only sixteen, just like you, I'm hardly qualified to be a professor"

"You manage just fine," Harry pointed out mildly. She huffed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder in a gesture of irritation

"Through no work of my own, I assure you. Its because your so darn powerful you don't need much tuition. I haven't decided if that's a good thing or not" she said, scowling

Harry was about to say something to defuse the situation (he wasn't willing to get into a fight on a market day. They were too rare for that) when a voice- cultured, familiar and utterly despised- spoke gently from behind them

"Hello Harry. What a pleasant surprise"

In sync, all three friends made a face a turned

"Good morning Mr. Riddle. I do wish I could relate" Harry said coolly

Riddle was a Slytherin supporter to the point of obsession. He, it seemed, had only two: Slytherin and Harry. Unfortunately Harry had forgotten that the Slytherin market would attract Tom Riddle and had, therefore, neglected to keep an eye out for him—just so he could be avoided.

"I say Harry, that's not very polite of you. Whatever would your guardians think?" He asked as silkily (and as dangerously) as a snake "Speaking of guardians that's quite a lovely bruise you've got on your neck. However did you acquire it?"

Tom Riddle was, above all things, as sneaky as hell. He knew Harry was abused (anyone who saw Harry enough knew—admittedly, that wasn't a lot of people. Just the Weasley's, Hermione and, of course, Tom Riddle)

"I fell" Harry said as stiffly as he was able, the lie obvious to them both "Was there something you wanted, Mr. Riddle? A message to my uncle perhaps?"

"Only you Harry" Riddle said, smirking "always you"

"I apologize, sir, I'm afraid I'm not for sale" Harry said dryly. Riddle's lips twitched in slight annoyance. He was an impatient man and Harry was starting to test it

"You need not put up with them, Harry" He told the boy bluntly "If you agreed to bond with me I'd take care of you. I'd protect you from your family"

Harry wasn't fooled. Riddle went through partners faster than toilet paper. Harry interested him because he was stubborn, powerful and untouched. If he slept with Riddle he'd be discarded within the week. Harry also hadn't failed to notice the ominous marks most his conquests came away with and wanted nothing to do with him. He got enough marks from the Dursley's

"But Mr. Riddle" Harry said, turning his back on the man "Who would protect me from you?"

With that, he grabbed his friends arms and walked calmly away, ignoring the furious and penetrating gaze that was burning into his back

"Vile, evil, awful man" Hermione hissed furiously "Mark my words, one day that horrid creature is going to get what's coming to him"

Harry didn't doubt her words. People like Riddle always did.

* * *

_Love is not a word, its a sentence_

* * *

"I think its time you get married" 

Severus Snape, adopted son of King Albus and Queen Minerva, Prince of all Hogwarts, head of Slytherin house and content bachelor, looked up in disbelief

"Sorry mother?" He asked his mother, Minerva McGonagall (now Dumbledore) in surprise "I could have sworn you said the word _'married'_"

"I did" Minerva said, a touch impatiently "You haven't got forever you know Severus, and you can hardly remain single and childless"

"Can't I just adopt?" Severus asked rationally "You did"

"Because I am incapable of childbirth" Minerva said calmly "You are not. Even if your were to adopt you could hardly raise the child by yourself. The kingdom needs more than one ruler, my son. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. You shall need someone who you can trust without question. Who will guide you, temper you, complete you and, if necessary, retrain you. You need to get married"

"Must I get married _now_?" Severus asked irritably "wizards live a long time, mother, I have a long life ahead of me in which to marry"

"And one day you'll decide to get married only to realize its too late" Minerva said sternly "Besides, Severus my dear, you may have all the time in the world, but your father and I do not. I should like to see you settled down before I die"

"I don't want to get married for the sake of getting married" Severus said, scowling his displeasure

"You want to get married for love then?" Minerva asked, amused. Severus was hardly the sentimental type and she wasn't even sure he thought he could fall in love

"I can't see myself falling in love" Severus said, making a face "But it would be more preferable, I suppose, than marrying someone I don't even know. I want to be able to at least choose my spouse. No arranged marriages"

"What an excellent idea" a voice said and Albus Dumbledore walked into the scene, eyes twinkling "We could have a ball. I do love balls, after all. We could invite every single man and woman over fifteen in the kingdom and you could choose you spouse that way"

"A ball!" Minerva cried, delighted "What a marvelous idea! I'm sure Severus could find a splendid partner there"

"And if I don't?" Severus asked, more of a dare than a question "If I deem no one suitable?"

"Then we'd have to pick for you, dear" Minerva admitted gravely "You would have eliminated anyone eligible and we would have to pick someone worthy."

"How could I pick anyone?" Severus snapped, not liking this turn of events "They'll see I'm the Prince and they'll be all over me. How can I know someone when no one will act like themselves?"

"We can cast the _'Mistaken Identity'_ spell!" Minerva exclaimed, flushed with excitement "That way everyone will be able to see you but no one will recognize you as the Prince. No one will know _who_ the hell you are."

Severus could see, with growing despair, that he wasn't going to win this argument anytime soon

"We'll hold it in a months time and send out the notices tomorrow. That way everyone will have plenty of time to prepare for fancy clothes and such," Dumbledore decided firmly

"Oh!" Minerva exclaimed "This will be so much fun!"

Severus could already feel the migraine coming on.

* * *

**_TBC..._**

* * *


	2. The End Justifies the Means

**Title: **The Fountain of Dreams

**Parings: **Harry Potter/Severus Snape

**Warnings:** Mild child abuse, some violence (because of the former), slash (which should be apparent) and, to top it all off, a touch of angst

**Summery: **A reluctant prince holding a ball. A dying girl. A beaten boy defying the odds to save her. A chance meeting. A desperate race against time. Love has a habit of blooming at the most inopportune moment there is. A very different look at Cinderella

**Author's note: **Here it is, chapter number two! Its been two weeks (the amount of time I wait) and hopefully this chapter is better edited than the last one was. If not, then I've decided I'm definitely getting a betta! If this one has that many spelling mistakes, I obviously need one! Unfortunately, spelling has never been my strongpoint. I'm a little better at grammar but lets just say I won't be winning any awards any time soon! Anyways, here's my chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Read and Review!

_What would you do to save a life?  
An individual soul?  
What would you do to make them smile?  
And turn their heart from coal?  
Would you destroy the whole wide world?  
Would you harm both kin and friend?  
Would you kill and maim, lie and cheat  
Brake bone and spirit bend?  
Would you risk you life and your ideals?  
Would you directly disobey?  
Would you simply watch and sadly weep  
As your morals all decay?  
Would you do all this and so much more,  
If it would end all right?  
Would you betray your every thought  
With your goal so close in sight?  
Would you cross the line of right and wrong?  
For the line's thinner than it seems  
And if it's for the right reasons  
Does the end justify the means?_

**Part Two: The End Justifies the Means**

The door was sounded like a guillotine.

"_BOY!_"

And he was dead.

"YOUR _LATE!_"

"I'm sorry uncle Vernon," Harry said instantly, as his uncle approached him furiously "The market was crowded."

"I DON'T WANT YOUR PATETIC EXCUSES, YOU MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A CHILD! I WANT RESULTS!" Vernon roared

Then the beating started. Harry almost wanted to sigh. He really wasn't in the mood for this

"USELESS CHILD!" Vernon screamed, "LAZY LAYABOUT! YOU WERE PROBABLY LATE ON PURPOSE, YOU URCHIN!"

Why on _earth_ would he be voluntarily late with the reception he could expect? Thought was thoroughly discontinued by his uncle's fists and, with a skill honed by practice; Harry expertly shut off the pain and let his mind go blank. Eventually his uncle was satisfied and he was dragged by the collar to his cupboard and thrown unceremoniously in.

Once there, Harry used whatever consciousness he had left to heal the worst of his injuries and any bruises he could get away with. He left the most severe bruises because his relatives would notice and become suspicious if they saw them missing. Only then, drained and achy, did he allow himself to lose grip on reality and sink into the welcoming darkness of oblivion.

Harry hurt.

An understatement (and a vast one) but it was nonetheless true. He hurt quite a lot and was thankful (as he usually was) that he had the talent and power to heal his own injuries. Surely he would have died a hundred times over by now if he did not. He was expected to perform his chores as usual the next day (nothing exempted him, not even the most brutal of beatings) and he did so with the utmost care and patience, desperate enough to use magic if he could get away with it, just so he would finish it in time and avoid yet another beating.

It was around three when the knock sounded at the door.

"_BOY!_ Get the door!" Harry heard from some distant plain of the house. Harry certainly didn't need telling twice and did so, raising a brow at the royal messenger he saw there

"In the name of King Albus Dumbledore, in regards to having his majesty Prince Severus married, there shall be a ball held in a months time. His royal highness will then select a man or lady of his choosing to bond with. Every unmarried man and woman over fifteen is to attend and will be accounted for. Apologies must be sent to his Majesty by the fifteenth, a week before the ball in question. So mote it be. " The messenger proclaimed in a single breath, handing Harry a letter with the details.

"Er…" Harry said, quite impressed (and rather amazed) at how fast tha man had managed to speak "Thanks?"

The messenger nodded, duty done, and made his way to the next house. Shaking his head, Harry shut the door behind him

"Uncle Vernon!" He called, knowing to report this immediately.

"_WHAT?_" Vernon demanded.

"You've been invited to a royal ball!" Harry yelled back. He was amused to hear how fast his uncle ran down to snatch the offered letter from his hand and tear it open, his eyes soaking in the information

"PETUNIA! DUDLEY! Come quick!" Vernon called. They were there in an instant to see what the problem was, Dudley red and panting.

"Vernon!" Petunia cried, obviously displeased "Whatever is the matter? Its not the boy, is it?"

Vernon handed her the letter wordlessly, eyes greedy, and Petunia read it, eyes widening as she did so

"Oh!" She cried, "Vernon! A ball! The Prince is finally going to chose a partner!"

"Imagine if he chose Dudley." Vernon said, looking more greedy than ever, "He'd be _royalty_ Petunia, and we'd be richer than our wildest dreams!"

Petunia looked thrilled and a different sort of hunger consumed Dudley's pudgy face. Harry felt sick.

"We've got no time to lose!" Petunia cried in excitement, shaking herself out of her daze, "We have to prepare! There's so much to do and only a month in which to do it! All of us will need new robes, for one, and they'll have to be of the finest quality there is so we impress the Prince. He'd have to be mad no to fall in love with Dudley on sight!"

Harry looked at Dudley in frank disbelief. In his opinion the Prince would have to be mad _to_ fall in love with Dudley. And that was _just_ what this kingdom needed. Someone as shallow as Dudley on the throne. He'd probably break it anyways, and if he became a Queen (he'd be the queen of the relationship, only male. The position could apply to either sex, just as King could) then what would become of Harry? Knowing the Dursley's they'd probably have him killed or kissed before he became of age. Harry shuddered. It worked in his favor, however, that you'd have to be deaf, blind and mute in order to feel any attraction to Dudley and even _that_ was a stretch.

His aunt and uncle began making lists, excitedly discussing everything they would need (it seemed a bit much, in Harry's opinion but he knew better than to voice it.) and Harry backed slowly out of the room, making himself scarce. This, in the end, was good news. The Dursley's would be so busy and in such a good mood that they would forget about him a lot of the time. On the downside, he'd have a lot more errands to run and, it being such an important event, his punishments would be much more severe. Harry sighed in resignation.

It was going to be a very long month.

* * *

_Bad times do not build character, it shows it_

* * *

The days passed at a ridiculous speed and Harry began to wish the stupid ball would hurry up and happen so he wouldn't have to listen to another word concerning it. As he had predicted, his family mostly ignored him (he cherished these moments dearly) but when they did the beatings were quite a bit more vigorous than the ones he was used to. He wished, rather wistfully, that something would interrupt the cycle he was getting sucked into. 

Thirteen days before the ball his wish was answered in the form of a knock at the door. Curious (the Dursley's, as a rule, didn't get many spontaneous callers) Harry opened the door rather quickly.

He was shocked to see Ron standing there.

He looked horrible. His skin was so pale it almost seemed that he hadn't gotten any sun for years. His eyes were so black with bags from loss of sleep that Harry had thought (for a brief second) that someone had punched him. His usual messy hair seemed duller than the usual vibrant hair and so heavy that it Harry had thought it was wet. The worst thing of all, however, were his eyes. Harry had never seen his eyes so hollow.

"Harry." Ron said, voice filled with sorrow and despair, "I need you."

Harry didn't so much as look back into the house (and to the no doubt puzzled Dursley's) he was there in a moment flat.

* * *

_True friendship consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and value_

* * *

The room was thick with an aura. 

It took Harry a few moments to recognize it. It was the sort of heaviness one would find in a Hospital.

It was the feel of Death

Lying in her bed, Ginny looked worse than Ron did. Her breathing was so shallow that, for the briefest of seconds, Harry feared he had been called too late and she had died. She was sleeping deeply and Harry knew (like he knew fire burned) that she would not awake.

"We thought it was nothing," Ron said shakily, voice filled with tears "We thought it was just a virus of some sort and would fade in a week. But she just got worse and worse. Mum eventually called Madam Promfrey but she said there was nothing she could do. Its only a matter of time now."

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked softly, as if raising his voice would cause something to happen that could not be repaired. Silence would freeze time, perhaps, and save her.

"She has some disease" Ron explained, voice just as soft, and Harry approached Ginny's bed slowly "Had some fancy, four syllable name that went right over my head." he laughed bitterly, "Its killing her Harry. Its latched onto her magic, her very life force, and its draining it dry. That's what it feeds off. It eats her magic and leaves her to die."

"How'd she get it?" Harry asked, gently taking Ginny's hand in his own. It was limp, unmoving, and disconcertingly cold. "Cant they cure her?"

"No one knows how it's contracted." Ron said, looking away to hide his tear-streaked face, "And there is no cure. It eats magic, Harry. Any spell would just feed the disease and prolong her suffering."

"How long?" Harry asked, almost fearing the answer. Over the years Ginny had become as much his sister as she was Ron's—his heart clenched at the thought of losing her

"Two weeks." Ron admitted, unable to stop the tears, "Give or take."

"There's no hope?" Harry asked, desperate for a string to cling to, "None whatsoever?"

"Madam Promfrey says that nothing short of a miracle can save her now." Ron said, voice creaking. Harry, however, stared.

"_The Fountain of Dreams_" He whispered. Ron blinked slowly and turned to him.

"What?" he whispered, coming forward, "What's that?"

"You know it Ron." Harry told him, eyes filled with hope "It's called among the common as _The Wisher_."

Ron's eyes widened in recognition and, for a scant moment, a light entered his eyes before it faded.

"But… I've heard stories about that place Harry. Strange stories. According to legend the wishes almost never come true."

"That's true." Harry admitted nodding, "You have to be pure of heart and mind to even have a chance. Not only that but your wish has to be completely selfless. Wishing for money or fame or glory, for example, will only earn you the opposite. Like a curse."

"But Harry" Ron said hesitantly, almost not daring to believe it, "Its in the Place Gardens. We could hardly stroll into the palace at our leisure to make a wish. We'd never be allowed in."

"The ball, Ron" Harry said gently "The ball. Everyone will be in the palace that day. All you'd have to do is creep away from the dancing and find it"

"Mum sent our Apology yesterday because… because of Ginny. I'd never be able to get away. She'd notice." Ron said, looking hopeless.

"Why don't you ask her permission to go? Surely she'd give it?" Harry inquired, puzzled.

"I couldn't do that," Ron cried softly, looking stricken, "What if it doesn't work and I don't get my wish granted? To have her hopes rise like that only to see them crash? It would kill her. It would kill us all. I couldn't do that to her Harry. And I can't sneak away. She'd notice for sure and she's upset enough as it is. No Harry, I can't go. You, however, can"

"Me?" Harry cried in disbelief, "I couldn't possibly. One, the Dursley's would kill me if they caught me. Two, I don't know if I'm even invited and three, what would I wear?"

Ron smiled slightly, knowing he had basically already won the argument.

"One" Ron began, ticking it off, "Don't get caught. Wear a hood or something to keep your face hidden. Two, everyone's invited Harry, and it's not like they check. Three, I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Why not contact Hermione?" Harry asked, a touch desperately.

"Because she's a _girl_, Harry. She'd blame herself if she failed. I love her too much to force her to do such a thing for me. Please Harry, please? For me? For Ginny?"

Harry thought that Hermione wouldn't be the only one to blame herself. Ron's pleas, however, and Ginny's prone form was enough to make him cave.

"Alright Ron." Harry consented with a sigh, "I'll try."

"Your Harry." Ron said simply, "You'll do more than try."

Harry felt the weight of those words settle themselves heavily on his shoulders.

* * *

_ Beware lest you become the thing you hate_

* * *

Harry had never stolen anything in his life. 

Oh, he had taken little things, a piece of toast here, an apple there and (very rarely) even a sweet. This was mostly for survival though. If he hadn't gotten used to eating whenever he could, he'd never eat at all. He'd never stolen money, though. Not so much as a single knut. Another thing he'd never done was use magic on his relatives. Well, not on purpose, at least. Not for his own personal gain. Harry knew what it was like to be controlled and had sworn to never resort to such a thing, not even with the Dursley's.

Harry was learning, however, that some things were more important than morals. Some things were more important than rules. And that some barriers existed for the sole purpose of knocking them down. He wouldn't enjoy it (he'd never enjoy it) but he recognized that that was a good thing. That he should fear the day he knocked barriers down without a thought, lest he destroy something he shouldn't.

"We're running short on things, Aunt Petunia," Harry told her, guiltily using a magic he had never so much as touched, except to learn it: compulsion. "I'll need to go to market today."

Petunia was a weak witch. So much so that her magic was almost non-existent. She was disgustingly easy to enchant, especially to someone as powerful as Harry. It wasn't the Imperious Curse, however (no matter what, Harry wouldn't sully his hands with an Unforgivable) and so Petunia looked a little puzzled

"I thought I went shopping the other day…" She frowned, trailing off uncertainly.

"You shopped for Dudley." Harry said, seeing his own magic weaving gently around her and feeling a little sick. "You were so excited about the ball in three days that you forgot to pick the rest of the things up, remember?"

"Yes." Petunia said absently, nodding, "Of course. I forgot."

"I'll need some money, Aunt Petunia." Harry said smoothly, "So I can buy them for you."

"Of course." Petunia said, sounding vague. She pulled a purse from her pocket and handed it to Harry. Harry opened it and quickly calculated the amount

"Its only just enough." Harry told her, which was true in a sense, "You won't get any money back."

"Of course not." Petunia snapped, a bit of her personality shinning through as Harry eased off the compulsion. He'd got what he wanted.

"I'll be going then," Harry said, pulling his magic back

"Get out, then." Petunia commanded, back to normal, "Out with you, and you'd better be back before dinner."

"Yes, aunt Petunia." Harry said, leaving quickly.

He held his breath until he was outside and released it slowly. He hoped (with every fiber of his being) that he'd never have to do anything like that again but knew that there was also the return trip to deal with. His conscious weighed heavily on him and, despite everything his family had done to him; he vowed that he would pay them back when he was older. Harry Potter was many things, but a thief was not one of them.

Harry wondered whether or not to get Ron but decided, reluctantly, not to do so. Ron's family needed him right now and, as ashamed as he was to admit it, he didn't want to face Ron and explain how he had gotten the money. He _had_ to have something to wear to the ball, though, and it was a life at stake here. Harry would do anything at all for the Weasley's—they deserved it for everything they had done for him. If the least he could do was save Ginny's life, he would do it.

Harry was cautious and was even paranoid enough to put a subtle _'notice me not'_ charm on his face. Those who saw him wouldn't remember what he looked like. He couldn't let the Dursley's find out he had come here, after all. He was doing enough manipulative magic to last him the rest of his life to add any more onto it.

When he finally arrived at the market (was the walk always that long?) he quickly made his way to a dressing shop: _'__Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'_. There was no reason to linger (this was an in and out operation) and Harry walked as quickly and as confidently as he could. He was thankful it was Gryffindor week at the market because, amongst all the vibrant colours, his small form was barely noticeable

"What can I do for you, dear?" Madam Malkin asked as she made her way over.

"I need a set of dress robes for the ball and cloak with a hood to match." Harry told her, his words tumbling slightly. Madam Malkin clucked her tongue

"Leaving a bit late, aren't you dear?" She asked him disapprovingly.

"My sister's been very sick." Harry explained, twisting the truth. Madam Malkin looked sympathetic.

"I hope she's better, dear," She said worriedly. A fire lit itself in Harry's eyes.

"She will be," Harry said heatedly, "I promise."

"Alright then." Madam Malkin said after a strained silence, "Lets get you measured. On the stool with you."

Harry obeyed, feeling a little odd. He'd never gotten clothes that fit before. Madam Malkin measured him thoroughly, her measuring tape everyone at once, it seemed. He heard her mutter the measurements under her breath and watched with curious eyes as she recorded them.

"You far too thin, child." She admonished, "That's why your so small. You should eat more."

"I'll try." Harry told her, knowing it was an empty promise.

"Now, what colours where you thinking?" Madam Malkin asked, studying his form thoughtfully.

"I thought perhaps green?" Harry said hesitantly "For my eyes? And maybe black?"

"Wonderful choices." She praised, beaming, "They really are rather striking eyes, dear. Very pretty."

Harry, unused to complements, blushed. He had chosen his eyes for his mother. The black represented his hair and, through that, his father. Harry didn't know much about fashion, after all. It seemed his parents hadn't failed him.

After half an hour, many discarded robes and a few checks with measurement, Harry found himself with an outfit that worked. It was a green robe that hugged his figure rather nicely (though Harry felt embarrassed) and was trimmed in black. The cloak was exactly the opposite; it was black with a green trim and (when Harry tried walking) billowed slightly behind him. At the ball he planed to darken the hood so his face wasn't visible and, taking this into account, Harry thought he looked a little mysterious. He'd never felt mysterious before. The outfit was simple, flattering and effective. Just what Harry was looking for.

"I love it," Harry proclaimed.

"I can see why." Madam Malkin said, amused, "You look stunning."

"How much is it?" Harry asked, half fearing the answer, "Will this be enough? Its all I've got."

He handed her the purse and Madam Malkin looked through it, counting.

"Just." She announced eventually and Harry beamed with happiness, thanking her profusely before he left.

Madam Malkin watched him go sadly. She hadn't failed to notice the hand shaped bruises that littered his body or the way his ribs had stuck clearly from his stomach. With a bittersweet smile she added the three gallons that he was short to the purse and put it securely into the register.

It had been worth a hundred to see him smile.

* * *

_ A conscience does not prevent sin. It only prevents you from enjoying it_

* * *

Harry entered the house, still smiling happily. He had only one thing left to do and, at the memory of that, he sobered abruptly and went to find his aunt.

"Boy." she greeted him and Harry reminded himself that the dress robes were safely tucked away in his pocket, unseen and untouchable, "Where's the shopping?"

"What shopping aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, reluctantly springing his compulsion to life once more, "You went shopping yesterday, remember? When you picked up Dudley's robes."

"Oh," Petunia said, voice uncertain once more, "I did… didn't I?"

"Yes, aunt Petunia." Harry said at once, "I was just looking for your purse. You lost it, remember?"

"Did I?" Petunia asked, puzzled, her hand flying to her pocket "So I did. Did you find it?"

"No, aunt Petunia," Harry said promptly, "I think it might have been stolen yesterday while you were at the market and you simply didn't notice."

"Oh," Petunia said absently, "That makes sense."

"I'll go make dinner then." Harry said and went to do juts that. He waited until he was out of the room before he pulled his magic back, signing in relief as he did so

"AND DON'T YOU DARE LET BURN!" Petunia yelled shrilly a moment later.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Only two days left till the ball. Then it would all the over.

The day couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

_ Sometimes, the only path is the rockiest one_

* * *

The long awaited and magnificent ball was only a day away and there was just one more problem he had yet to solve:

How the hell he was going to get there.

On such an auspicious occasion carriages were expected but, for obvious reasons, Harry could hardly go that way. The Dursley's had rented one for the event but Harry knew it would be impossible to sneak onboard without being noticed.

In the end, he decided to fly.

Dudley had, a few years ago, been given a broom for his birthday. He had tried to ride it once and had instantly thrown it into the shed when the broom had refused to budge under his enormous weight. Harry had found the whole thing horribly amusing, even if he hadn't got a go on it. Now that _Nimbus 2000_ would save Ginny's life

Of course there was the tiny, teeny problem that he didn't actually _know_ how to fly. He was confident, however, that he could figure it out

After all, he reasoned, how hard could it be?

* * *

**_TBC..._**

* * *


	3. The Ball

**Title: **The Fountain of Dreams

**Parings: **Harry Potter/Severus Snape

**Warnings:** Mild child abuse, some violence (because of the former), slash (which should be apparent) and, to top it all off, a touch of angst

**Summery: **A reluctant prince holding a ball. A dying girl. A beaten boy defying the odds to save her. A chance meeting. A desperate race against time. Love has a habit of blooming at the most inopportune moment there is. A very different look at Cinderella

**Author's note: **Part three is up! Only one more part left to go! Hurrah! Hope you've all enjoyed the story and I apologize for the lateness but I've had one hell of a few weeks so this story was not my top priority. A little notice, it gets quite dramatic in this chapter but, as it's a fanfic, I can probably be excused. Thanks to all those wonderful people who have reviewed and remember- keep it up!

_Shimmering strands of silver silk  
Robes of emerald green  
Gowns shine like the stars above  
The jewels and white skin gleam  
Fabric rustles softly  
Feet never miss a step  
The floor is trod on gently  
As every move is met  
Lips, they twist in dreamy smiles  
Eyes, alight with wonder  
The music soft as midnight dreams  
The silence like the thunder  
Back and forth, too and fro  
Sway lightly through the hall  
Hand takes hand, lips touch lips  
Come down and join the ball.  
**  
**_**Part Three: The Ball**

Harry waited exactly forty-three minutes and five seconds after the Dursley's had left before he got to work.

Certain lights had to be kept on (to keep the illusion that the house was occupied) while others had to be kept off (places he was forbidden to tread without supervision). He remembered to close his cupboard door and even went so far to stuff something under the blanket so it would look occupied. It would suffice for a short glance but if the Dursley's got home before Harry and tried to wake him, there would be hell to pay.

He double and triple checked everything before locking up the house completely (it would be far too ironic if they were robbed in his absence) and making his way to the shed. It was a pathetic excuse for a storage facility, really, as the wood that constructed it was moldy and falling apart. Despite this it was locked rather securely (the Dursley's were rather paranoid) and it took Harry three tries to get it open.

The broom was dusty from its years of neglect but otherwise looked brand new. The only ware it had at all was a single scratch on its underbelly, a mark from when Dudley had thrown it in his temper tantrum. Remembering what to do from observing the lessons Vernon had given Dudley, Harry put the broom carefully on the floor and held a hand uncertainly over it

No going back now

"Up!" He said firmly, as if his façade of confidence could fool the broom… and perhaps it did for it jumped quite willingly into his hand, vibrating with suppressed eagerness. Poor thing had spent three years locked in a shed and was no doubt ecstatic to be free. Harry could relate.

Reminding himself that, while it was a very nice broom it certainly didn't have feelings, Harry swung a leg over and gripped the handle tightly. With a deep breath and a quick prayer Harry pushed off the ground firmly and into the sky.

And suddenly, inexplicitly, all his chains broke free

Before Harry knew what was happening the ground was far below him, the wind was threading itself through his hair and his robes were billowing like a train behind him. His heart felt lighter than a feather and, unable to restrain himself, Harry let himself laugh. Pure, happy, unrestrained laughter. He experimented with the broom, getting himself use to the odd positioning and finding his center of gravity so he could fly faster. Despite the urgency of his quest he felt the weight of his task lift and indulged himself in a few rolls and even a flip or two.

The palace stood, large and magnificent, before him. Really a large castle, it looked quite beautiful in the moonlight. The lake that lay situated by its side glittered cheekily up and him and Harry realized (with a touch of disappointment) that it would hardly be dignified to land in front of the gates on a broom. He'd have to hide it and pick it up later. Scanning the scenery, Harry decided that the bushes scattered around the castle gates would do if he used a _'notice me not'_ charm on the bush (it wasn't a bright idea to charm brooms. It usually interacted with the spells already woven to get it into the air and keep it there) which he would. Choice made, Harry made a beeline for the bushes in question, making sure he kept as out of sight as was possible when one was on a broom.

Landing nimbly (he couldn't help but feel slightly proud of that) Harry quickly stashed the broom in the bush he had landed before and cast the spell. He also had the foresight to cast a spell that insured that _he_ would notice the bush—even more so than the others, so he could find it with ease.

That done, he carefully smoothed down his windswept robes (it was, after all, a ball) and fixed his hair as much as he could—before covering it up swiftly with the hood of his cloak, his face instantly cast into shadow. He was obviously more nervous than he had first thought.

Trying to look more confident than he felt (which was not at all) Harry approached the outer gate. The guards standing watch looked him up and down (Harry could have sworn the left one's eyes had lingered longer than was necessary) before they decided that he was appropriately dressed and let him inside.

Blinking (he knew it would be easy, but there seemed to be no precautions at all) Harry continued up the path to step through the main doors. Immediately the cool trickle of magic washed over him. Doing a quick analysis Harry recognized the _'Intent Charm'_ which checked his intent was not malicious; the _'Amnesty Spell'_ which, for the night, would rid him of prejudice towards the other families and, thus, avoid any petty fights and the _'Charm of Peace'_ which would insure he was unable to hurt another individual while on the grounds. He was also sure he felt the _'Mistaken Identity'_ spell and quickly revised all his opinions on the palace's security.

Recovering from his shock, Harry looked around and fell right back in. The palace's interior was beautiful. Really, Harry didn't know why he was so surprised (it _was_ the living place of royalty—what did he expect?) but it was one thing to read and dream about something, it was quite another to see it before his very eyes. The doors had opened directly into the ballroom (Harry wasn't sure if it always did so of if the King had enchanted the doors. The latter was more likely) and so Harry was gifted with the sight of people, all dressed in their finest, weaving in and out of each other as they danced. To see so many people dancing so was quite a striking sight and Harry found himself breathless.

Pity he couldn't hang around to enjoy it.

Making his way quickly into the multitudes (he'd attract less attention among a crowd) Harry tried to calculate his next move. The problem, he quickly realized, was that he had no idea where the gardens _were_ let alone how to find them. He would simply look around aimlessly but he knew from books just how large the castle was and knew he could search all night and not find it. He frowned heavily, starting to panic slightly, when, amongst the crowd, he saw his salvation:

Hermione.

At first all Harry could do was stare. Her hair was not the usual bushy mess; it was sleek and elegant, tied up in a beautiful bun. Her dress was long and molded to her figure with careful skill. She looked, Harry decided, absolutely ravishing. It seemed her partner (a blond-haired individual who was quite handsome) was aware of this fact, as he never took his eyes off her. Taking the chance he would seem like an absolute prick, Harry approached and tapped his shoulder. The boy glared at him

"May I cut in?" he asked politely, "I need to speak to Hermione."

"Harry?" Hermione cried, a hand flying to her mouth as she recognized his voice. She threw herself at him, drawing him into a fierce hug (the man scowled) "What on earth are _you_ doing here?"

"Not so loud." Harry hissed, ignoring the now curious man, "If my family sees me here, I'm literally a dead man. I need your help, 'Mione. Where is the _Fountain of Dreams_?"

"_The Wisher_?" Hermione asked, obviously puzzled, "Why would you want to find that? Oh, Harry! Your not going to wish yourself away from your relatives, are you? You know it doesn't work like that."

"I know." Harry agreed, "And I won't. I promise. I know the rules as well as you do. Tell me where it is."

"Why?" She asked suspiciously, crossing her arms, "I love you too much to see your life cursed so you'd better tell me."

"I can't." Harry said in despair, "You'd want to come and if it doesn't work you'd only blame yourself. I love you too much to do that to you and Ron agrees."

"Ron?" Hermione asked, caught off guard, "What's he got to do with this?"

"Please Hermione," Harry begged, "Look at me. Name one bad deed I've ever done. Tell me one selfish move I have made. Who, in all my years, have I harmed, physically or emotionally? Trust me when I say that my wish is selfless and trust me when I say a human life is at risk."

"A life?" Hermione asked, pale, "Really? And where _did_ you get those robes?"

"I stole the money from my relatives." Harry admitted, his guilt clearly audible. To his surprise she nodded her satisfaction.

"Good." She said firmly, "It's the least they deserve from what they did."

"Directions, 'Mione?" Harry asked warily, deciding to worry about that later.

"Alright Harry." Hermione agreed at last, "Only because I love you and I _do_ trust you. A piece of advice though, Harry. Making a wish there is supposed to be the most difficult thing a person can do. Please be careful. For my sake, if not your own."

"I will." Harry said, taking her hands solemnly (the blond boy looked annoyed again), "I promise. And I love you too. You look stunning, by the way."

Hermione blushed, looking pleased, before awkwardly clearing her throat.

"From what I've read the _Fountain of Dreams_ is in the middle of the royal garden; there's many entrances, of course, but I only know of one. According to _'Hogwarts: A History'_ you have to walk down the main corridor and take the first turn on the right. Continue to do so and eventually you'll find yourself in the middle of the castle where it opens into the garden. Just keep turning right and you'll get there"

"Thanks." Harry said gratefully, "I have to go."

He kissed her on the cheek before leaving and, from behind him, just heard the blond man exclaim, "Who on earth was _that_?" before he left the hall and all noise faded behind him.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible._

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

The corridors all looked the same.

It was this, more than anything, that gave the impression that one was either not walking at all or was simply walking around in circles. Despite this Harry trusted Hermione with his life (and with Ginny's) and so did not stop following her directions. Every right turn he could take, he took - even the ones that were slim and covered in darkness did not pass him by. Eventually (after what felt like an eternity) he turned down a corridor and was confronted by a large and rather plain set of doors. Hesitating only slightly, Harry opened it and stepped inside

Only to find himself _outside_.

The garden, spread out in all its splendor before him, was the most breathtaking thing Harry had ever seen. He took a moment to look around and swore, on everything he knew, that there must be every flower and plant that existed in this garden. The perfume was almost overwhelming and beautifully sweet. Harry delighted in taking deep breaths and even dared to touch the flowers - with such aching gentleness that one would think they were made from glass. It was only when he thought how much Ginny would love this that he remembered his task and, with a newfound sense of determination, made his way to the center of the garden.

The fountain wasn't that hard to find.

Looking at it Harry thought the garden actually paled in comparison. The water sparked so brightly it made diamonds look dull and Harry actually lowered his hood so he could see it better, letting the light reflect off his skin and bathe it like sunlight. Other than that it was quite an ordinary fountain. If one discarded the melodious sound the water made, of course. And the expertise that had been put into its carving. Not to mention the elegance that it exuded from ever inch of its surface. A sign, carved in elegant writing, stood out vividly and Harry read it carefully out loud, so as not to miss a single detail:

"_The Fountain of Dreams:_

_Wisher come, but do take head  
This is not a place of sin or greed  
Only those pure of heart and soul  
Will leave this fountain proud and whole  
Only those with strength and love  
Will get the favor from above  
Just a selfless wish, not turned or slanted  
Has any hope of being granted"_

Below that was another note. Harry read that too, curious:

_"Wish upon a pebble"_

Swiftly, Harry picked up a pebble (white and nicely round) from the ground (which was littered with them). He studied it for a moment before looking into the water, the pebble grasped tightly in his hand

"Well" he said, taking a breath "Here goes nothing"

Harry prepared to make his wish. A moment before he did so, however, the pebble heated up, the water shimmered, and Harry was seeing things

**Flash!**

_Five years old, Harry sat, cold, alone and shivering, in his cupboard as his uncle yelled at him from outside for him to come out and accept his punishment. Harry felt fear like he never had and, for the first (but not the last) time in his life Harry feared he would die._

**Flash!**

_Six years old, Harry watched, with burning jealously, as Christmas came and he got nothing. He asked why and his uncle yelled, calling him unworthy. He went to bed that night black and blue and wondering what he'd done._

**Flash!**

_Fists. They rained upon him. Over and over and over and over again. In a never-ending strain of punches. Harry felt something crack, something else snap. Felt bruises in their multitude imprinted upon him as his uncle chastised him for spilling a drink and wetting the floor. His protests that Dudley had done it went unnoticed_

**Flash!**

_Harry watched the way Ron looked at Hermione. Watched the couples in the street walk hand in hand and kiss. He looked down at his own form (bruised, malnourished and dirty) and wished, with the sort of longing one wished for something that could never be, that he could have that. Someone to love. But who, he reasoned, would ever love him back?_

**Flash!**

_Four years old, Harry realized, actually thinking about it, that he had no money, few friends, no one to protect him, no one to love or to love back, no skills besides cleaning, no real family, no true home and, perhaps worse of all, nowhere to go._

_**FLASH!**_

"Stop it!" Harry cried, clutching his head where a voice whispered at him throughout this tirade.

"_Stop it yourself."_ the voice whispered, _"You can, you know. One little wish. Just a wish and it can all be over. You'd never have to see the Dursley's again. Never be beaten ever again. You could be rich. You could be happy. You could be loved. You could be _free_"_

Harry was tempted (Oh Merlin, was he tempted) when he remembered something else. A memory remembered all on his own.

He remembered Ginny.

"I wont!" Harry proclaimed, tears actually escaping him at the realization of what he was giving up, "I wont take it! It's not mine to take! I wish for Ginerva Weasley to live, darn you! I wish away her disease!"

Harshly, with all his fury, he threw the pebble into the water. It sunk like the stone it was and the water rippled before it glowed and little particles of light lifted gently off the water and shot into the sky. Harry knew his wish had been granted but, suddenly, he didn't care. He simply sank to his knees and sobbed, unable to stop himself. He had just been given the opportunity to get out of the horrid life he lived and he had passed it up. It didn't _matter_ that wishing such a thing would have cursed him, it was the seeing everything put into perspective like that and thinking he could do something but actually _choosing_ not to that cut him so deeply.

"You know," A soft voice called and Harry jumped, looking around and wiping his eyes hastily "In all my years I've never heard of anyone actually getting their wish granted."

Harry looked at the speaker with wide eyes. He had dark features (long black hair, dark eyebrows and black, endless eyes) and his robes were black and flowing. Harry had thought, when he had bought his robes, that he had looked a touch mysterious. This man, however, was the epitome of mysterious and the fact that he looked familiar but Harry couldn't place him only heightened this impression.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, first instinct to apologize, "I didn't see you."

"That was obvious," The man said, smirking slightly. Harry, despite his situation, could not help but think the man incredibly handsome.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Harry asked, shaking off that odd thought.

"I should be asking you the same thing," the man said, gently helping Harry to his feet, "Not many people know how to find this place. That's why I hid here in the first place."

"I had the sense to ask for directions," Harry said shortly, causing the man to raise a brow at his rudeness. Harry sighed, "I'm sorry. That rather ruined my night. I'm afraid I'm in a horrible mood. Feel free to ignore me."

The man looked amused again.

"What's your name?" He asked, "You don't look familiar."

"My name is Harry." Harry said, a little cautious. Not many people were nice to him "What's yours?"

"Severus." said the man (why did that name seem so familiar?) raising one of Harry's hands to kiss it. Harry blinked and blushed prettily. Severus' eyes, however, were on his exposed arms which were littered with bruises, the worst of which wrapped almost completely around his left arm - his uncle had gripped him there so tightly that the bruises had turned a blackish purple. The shape was obviously a hand formation.

"Where did you get these?" He asked, indicating the bruises (or, at least, the visible ones). Harry looked away, still upset from the images he had seen.

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry said softly, trying to pull away his hand. Severus would not allow it and looked into his eyes, as though he were looking into his very soul.

"Where," Severus said softly and dangerously, "Did you get these?"

"My uncle." Harry said finally, a little annoyed, "I spoke without being spoken to."

"He punished you for that?" Severus asked, looking incredulous and furious. Harry shrugged, trying in vain to dismiss it

"My uncle's a git." Harry said simply, "He punishes me whenever he can."

"Report it." Severus said firmly.

"No one can actually do anything," Harry said, dismissing that, "He's not breaking any laws."

Severus did not look happy. In fact he looked like he wanted to argue about it some more but Harry hastily cut it off.

"Please," Harry begged, eyes never leaving his, "Trust me on that. Can we not speak of it? I'm upset enough as it is."

Severus relented.

"We will be discussing this later." Severus warned him. Harry nodded absently, knowing he'd be gone by then.

"Now then," Severus said, clearly changing the subject, "About your mood. I really must get back to the ball." he made a face, clearly not happy, "Someone would have noticed my absence by now. Perhaps you would like to join me?"

Harry hesitated. He had wanted it to be in and out, he reminded himself, but he probably should talk to Hermione before he left and this man (Severus, he reminded himself) seemed nice enough - though it probably didn't hurt that he was incredibly handsome.

Severus obviously knew his way around better than Harry did because they took a quicker, much more convenient route, back to the ballroom. Harry lifted his hood as he walked and, still holding Severus' hand, enchanted it so Severus could still see his face. As soon as they entered the ballroom Severus wrapped his arms gently around Harry's waist (mindful of the bruises, he had not seen, but guessed were there) and swept him into a dance.

Harry had never danced before in his life. At first, this was painfully obvious but Severus was an excellent dancer and took the lead instantly, meaning that all Harry to do was try and keep up. After a while he caught on and simply relaxed, letting himself dance.

It was around about now that Harry remembered that Ginny would live and he had saved her. Despite the images he had seen, Harry smiled as he danced. It was rather fun, he thought breathlessly, and Severus never took his eyes off him. Harry blushed slightly, peering at his dance partner from under his lashes and Severus felt his heart flutter at the look.

"Tell me about yourself, Harry." Severus said, voice so smooth it made Harry shiver, "What do you enjoy doing?"

"I've recently discovered flying." Harry said, a little timidly before his eyes lit up with simply the thought, "I wasn't aware that freedom could be so exhilarating. I've never enjoyed anything more. I've also just discovered that dancing has its perks."

Here Severus chuckled slightly, the sound like velvet, and wordlessly encouraged Harry to continue.

"I also love magic. I have to do it wandlessly, of course. My relatives won't buy me a wand," Harry said and Severus actually stumbled a step, looking at him oddly

"You can do wandless magic?" he asked slowly

"Of course," Harry said, nonplussed, "I've been doing it for years. I don't go to school but my friends teach me so I'm at around the same level as a sixth year. What's so odd about wandless magic?"

"Not many people possess the skill, Harry." Severus explained, looking thoughtful, "It's an extremely rare gift. You must be quite powerful."

"That's what my friends say," Harry said hesitantly, "But I thought they were just trying to be supportive."

Severus shook his head in disbelief at such innocent naivety.

"You, Harry, are one in a million." He sighed.

"Thanks?" Harry returned uncertainly and Severus smirked at him causing Harry to smile.

"Psst!" A voice called and a bewildered Severus turned him in that direction "Harry!"

"Hermione?" Harry asked uncertainly. The next moment Hermione was dancing with the same blond partner, right next to him. Briefly she reached over and kissed his cheek. Harry was amused to see that both of their partners glared.

"You did it!" she exclaimed, "Oh, I knew you would!"

"How'd you know that?" Harry asked her disbelievingly, thinking she didn't sound so certain when he was asking for directions.

"Well I thought you would try," she said, in the most logical voice she could, "But your Harry. You do more than try."

"That's what Ron said," Harry said, pouting just slightly and causing Hermione to giggle lightly.

"And he'd be right, which is a nice change, you must admit" she replied, smiling. Harry could not help but return it. The partners intensified their glares at the look they shared.

"Oh, Harry! Meet Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is my brother Harry." Hermione said simply. Harry looked at Hermione oddly.

"Hello Draco," Harry said slowly, "This is Severus. Severus, this is my sister Hermione."

To the shock of all Hermione burst into tears. All the boys traded uncertain looks.

"Hermione?" Harry asked eventually.

"You called me your _sister_!" she cried, "Oh, _Harry_!"

"You called me your brother first," Harry replied, puzzled, "And it's as good as true. I couldn't love you more if you were my sister by blood."

She cried harder and lead Draco away, obviously wanting to recover. Harry blinked after her with a confused expression.

"Girls," He said eventually, looking towards an equally puzzled Severus (though he looked far more dignified than Harry), "Who understands them?"

"Don't look at me," Severus said softly.

"She does look beautiful tonight though, doesn't she? I'm so proud." Harry said, sounding every bit as proud as he said he was.

"So are you." Severus said solemnly causing Harry to blush—something he was doing entirely too much of, in his opinion.

"You're being nice." Harry said plainly.

"I am not _nice._" Severus said, sounding so horrified that Harry smiled lightly, "I am merely honest. You are the most delectable creature I have ever had the pleasure of setting eyes on – and that's not nice—it's the truth."

"I think you're very handsome, too." Harry said awkwardly, not nearly as god with words as Severus obviously was. He looked down in embarrassment, blushing once more.

"Not nearly so much as you." Severus said, looking as if he didn't believe him. Harry couldn't see why. His nose was a little large, perhaps, but Harry thought it quite distinguished.

"I think you are." Harry admitted shyly, "Your looks are very refined."

He'd never blushed so much in his life. He probably looked like a total idiot right now. They were silent once more, swept into the dance, before Harry felt secure enough to ask a question.

"You know something about me but I know nothing about you. What do you enjoy doing?" Harry inquired.

"Potions." Severus replied at once, "And defense. I, too, also enjoy the occasional dance."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my darling Harry" A voice called and Harry stiffened. "I'd recognize that luscious body anywhere. Whatever are you doing here?"

"Riddle." Harry returned shortly, "Do you live solely to ruin the few enjoyable moments in my life?"

"If it means exerting my claim over you, then yes." Tom Riddle spoke smoothly, glaring at Severus who sneered condescendingly back.

"I am not _property_ Tom Marvello Riddle" Harry spat, spinning around and out of Severus' hold quite abruptly, "And you'd do well to remember that."

"You are mine." Tom said simply even as Severus took a defensive position at Harry right shoulder.

"I am no one's" Harry retorted viciously, thoroughly sick of the man. He snapped. "I am sick of you Riddle! Sick of you and your twisting tongue! I will not submit, I will never submit, and you will leave me in peace or I will curse you so hard your children's, children will feel it, if the world is misfortunate enough that you will produce any, that is"

"How dare you, you useless, good for nothing urchin." Tom hissed, stepping forward. Harry raised a hand threateningly even as he raised a brow.

"I _dare_ you." Harry said simply. Tom looked at his hand in bewilderment, not having seen him use wandless magic before. Dismissing the gesture he stepped forward and Harry struck.

With a flick of his wrist, Tom's face was covered with boils, his robes were hot pink and his shoes were on the wrong feet (a most uncomfortable sensation). Everyone in the hall stopped, puzzled, then burst out laughing at such a picture. Ton Riddle was a well-known and much disliked man. This would be all over the kingdom in no time flat. Glaring, Tom snarled, turning on his heal and leaving the still uproarious hall in a huff.

Harry tuned to see Severus looking at him with large impressed eyes.

"And here I was thinking you were all sweetness and shyness," Severus muttered, "Remind me not to piss you off."

Harry blushed deeply and Severus once more wrapped his arms around him to resume the dance.

"Does that disappoint you?" Harry asked, a little timidly.

"Oh no, Harry," Severus assured him, smirking, "On the contrary. You're more intriguing by the second. Its nice to know you're capable of defending yourself."

"I don't often," Harry replied, as though it were a bad thing "But Riddle's been annoying me for years. Ironically I met him when I met Hermione—in one of the bookshops at the market. Hermione works there, you know. She helped me shoo him off that first time but he's been annoying me ever since. I just snapped."

"And rather spectacularly if I do say so myself. You wandless magic is indeed quite proficient." Severus commented mildly, looking amused. Harry smiled self-consciously and shrugged.

"So modest." Severus sighed, making it sound like the most flattering compliment on earth. Harry smiled again, looking deeply into Severus' eyes. Something in his black gaze sparked and Harry found himself enraptured. The eyes (those captivating eyes) pulled him in like a fishing rod did a fish. Harry's own vibrant green flickered down momentarily to land on a pair of thin, curving lips. They drew closer and, for a reason that eluded him, Harry felt his eyes flicker like light bulbs before they shut completely.

Their lips met.

Harry had never been kissed before. He'd often wondered, on long lonely nights, what it felt like to be kissed (though he'd never envisioned such a scene). Whatever he had thought this was not it.

It was a thousand times better.

The kiss was chaste and achingly gentle. It seemed to ignite something inside Harry's very soul and the most wondrous warmth flowed through him. It was like liquid electricity sweeping through his veins and Harry felt slightly lightheaded from pleasure. He wrapped his arms slowly around Severus' neck and Severus' hold on his waist tightened as they swayed slowly on the spot, never ending the kiss. Eventually, however, lack of oxygen forced them apart. Harry sighed heavily, resting his head gently against Severus' chest as they once more circled the ballroom. For the first time in a long time Harry felt utterly content.

"Harry!" A voice called urgently and both Harry and Severus sighed as one, turning to face a dancing Hermione and Draco. Hermione looked frantic.

"Harry!" She whispered desperately, "They left! They just left! You have to go! If they get back and your not there…" She trailed off but Harry was instantly alert.

"Shit." He swore, "How long ago?"

"Ten minutes." She answered at once, panicked "I tried to get to you earlier but there's just so many people! Your lucky I saw them at all! You have to go! Run!"

"Thanks 'Mione." Harry said, ducking out of Severus' hold to kiss her cheek. He turned to Severus and smiled at him longingly.

"I have to go." Harry said simply causing Severus to blink at how fast things seemed to be going, "I had fun tonight. Thanks."

He darted forwards and placed a quick, final kiss onto Severus' lips before darting off.

"Harry?" Severus called, realizing something suddenly very vital: Harry was leaving, "Harry! Wait!"

He dropped all his dignity and ran after him. Harry was too fast. He ran nimbly out of the gate and seemed to search through the bushes before pulling out a broom. Severus called out in surprise and yelled at Harry to stop but he didn't so much as pause as he climbed onto his broom and away.

Severus was left alone, silently watching a lone figure silhouetted in the night sky. Raising a hand to his still tingling lips Severus vowed, on his crown as a Prince, that he would find that boy, stubborn thing that he was.

Severus Snape had made his choice

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_**TBC...**_

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


	4. After All

**Title: **The Fountain of Dreams

**Parings: **Harry Potter/Severus Snape

**Warnings:** Mild child abuse, some violence (because of the former), slash (which should be apparent) and, to top it all off, a touch of angst

**Summery: **A reluctant prince holding a ball. A dying girl. A beaten boy defying the odds to save her. A chance meeting. A desperate race against time. Love has a habit of blooming at the most inopportune moment there is. A very different look at Cinderella

**Author's note: **Part four is up! Last chapter guys! Wow! I can't believe it's finally here! I hope you've all enjoyed this well-known tale and (if so) remember to read and review. Thanks to all those who did so, you guys kept me going. This chapter, this ending, is for you.

_You're scared and you're scarred  
You're shy and afraid  
You grasp any joy close  
For you're sure it will fade  
You're beaten, your bruised  
You've run out of tears  
Yet when you're near  
There's nothing I fear  
You're certain you're shattered  
But I'll show you affection  
In your eyes you're nothing  
In mine you're perfection. _

**Part Four: After All**

Harry had never run so fast

He threw the broom carelessly into the shed, wincing as he did so, and then bolted inside where he ran, as fast as he possibly could, to the cupboard under the stairs; wrenching it open and throwing himself in, the door magically slamming itself shut behind him.

He was just in time. The cupboard door had just closed behind him when he heard the front one open. Burrowing under the covers, Harry faced the wall, curled up and remained very still, struggling to keep his breathing slow and even. Moments later the door opened, light streaming in, and Harry held his breath, lying dreadfully still. The moment seemed to last for a lifetime before, finally, the door closed once more.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing for real now.

That had been the most wonderful night of his life. He hadn't thought it was possible to feel so content, so happy. And that kiss… If all kisses where like that Harry wasn't doing enough of it. Severus had been absolutely perfect in every way. God only knows what he had seen in Harry. Most likely the nice robes. Harry knew nothing would ever happen, that that was as close as he would come to perfection, as close as he would come to love…

Still, now he had something to dream about.

With that thought Harry got right to work, falling instantly asleep. Not wanting to disappoint, his dreams were filled of beautiful dances, breathtaking kisses and a pair of dark obsidian eyes…

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII  
_ Sometimes the only path is the rockiest one_  
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Minerva thought her son was awfully stubborn.

"And you don't even know his last name?" She asked him, having heard his longwinded story about a perfect creature with vivid green eyes.

"His first name's Harry." Severus offered, looking determined, "You said I had to chose my spouse at the ball. I have made my choice."

"He must have made quite the impression." Dumbledore commented, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

"He made a wish at the _Fountain of Dreams_ and it was granted, father! _Granted_! I can safely say he made a rather large first impression," Severus drawled. Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Indeed." he agreed, "I don't remember the last time one was deemed worthy. He would make a fine ruler, for sure…"

"But how will we find him?" Minerva asked logically, "We can hardly search the entire kingdom with only the name _'Harry'_ to go on. It's a very common name, Severus."

"I will find him." Severus said firmly, "He had a friend, Hermione. She works at a bookshop in the market. How many bookshops are there?"

"Around seven." Dumbledore replied promptly, "I really should build another."

"Well then, if I find the right shop I find Hermione. If I find Hermione, I find Harry." Severus mused, looking thoughtful.

"You are quite taken with him aren't you?" Minerva asked, looking at Severus' determined expression with surprise, "Your quite besotted."

"I never believed in love at first sight." Severus replied, a little hesitantly "But he convinced me otherwise."

"Well then," Minerva stated firmly, glad to see her son so… human for once "We'll search the entire kingdom if we have to. We'll find him, Severus. I promise."

Severus didn't doubt her. His mother always kept her promises.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII  
_ True friendship consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and value_  
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Hermione was shelving books skillfully, humming lightly under her breath a song that refused to leave her head. Her mother stood at the front desk, looking at her daughter in fond amusement as she tidied it up. The bell tinkled and Hermione grinned, feeling unaccountably cheerful.

"I'll get it!" She called to her mother as she bounced happily towards door.

Whoever she had been expecting it certainly hadn't been the royal family. She gasped in surprise, ducking hastily into a low curtsy.

"Your majesties," She exclaimed, her surprise obvious, "What can we do for you?"

"Your Hermione, are you not?" A voice asked, oddly familiar. Puzzled, Hermione looked up to see the Prince gazing down at her. Quite abruptly, she remembered his name.

Severus Snape.

A startled hand flew to her lips as she realized just whom Harry had been dancing with the night before.

"Yes." She said shakily, "That's me."

"I'm looking for Harry." Severus told her frankly, "Do you know where he lives?"

"No," Hermione admitted, having never been to his house. Severus sighed and Hermione nervously ventured an alternative, "But I know _Ron_ knows where he lives. And I know where Ron lives."

Severus looked at her for a long moment before nodding abruptly.

"Come with us then, dear," Minerva (_the Queen!_ Hermione's mind seemed to cry) "Our carriage is outside."

"Oh… of course" Hermione stuttered, stumbling over her words. The King, Dumbledore, smiled at her reassuringly, leading her gently to a rather magnificent carriage. Hermione climbed carefully in feeling as though her presence could taint it. Quite hesitantly she guided the driver slowly through the streets to the house she knew the Weasley's resided in.

"That's it." she said, a touch more confident now, and the carriage stopped. The royal family got elegantly out of the carriage (Hermione stumbling ungracefully after them) and knocked as they reached the house.

A lot of noise followed from inside before the door finally opened. Mrs Weasley stood, looking flushed, in the doorframe. She seemed happier than Hermione had ever seen her and gasped at the sight of the royal family, curtsying at once. Then she saw Hermione.

"Hermione?" Mrs Weasley asked in surprise, straitening, "What can I do for you, dear?"

Hermione looked towards the King, uncertain if she should speak. Dumbledore nodded to her, though, so Hermione cleared her throat and spoke.

"We're looking for Harry," She told her uncertainly. Mrs Weasley huffed.

"I've got a word or two to say to him as well, let me tell you. Foolish boy, risking his life like that. But Hermione! Oh, _Hermione_! Ginny! She's better! She woke up this morning and was fine! Harry saved her life, bless that boy! I don't know whether to yell at him or hug him silly!"

"Ginny was sick?" Hermione inquired, blinking in shock, "She was actually _dying_? So that's why Harry wanted to make that wish! I can't believe he wouldn't tell me! When I get my hands on him…"

Hermione seemed to realize the royal family was looking at her oddly, and cleared her throat, blushing.

"Er, is Ron home?" she asked eventually, "Only I don't know where Harry lives."

"Of course Hermione, your majesties. One moment please," she requested kindly before turning "_RON_!"

Feet slammed against the ground and the next moment Ron was at the door, his eyes widening when he saw who it was. He bowed clumsily before he saw Hermione.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"We need you to show us where Harry lives" Severus cut in smoothly before the conversation could be repeated

"Sure." Ron replied, looking puzzled, "He's not in trouble is he? It was all my idea, if he is. I swear it."

"He's not in trouble." Dumbledore assured him, looking amused.

"And what's the meaning of not telling me about Ginny?" Hermione demanded as Ron walked forwards, the door closing behind him, "How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you." Ron admitted, "You'd want to make the wish and you'd be upset if you failed. I didn't want your life to be cursed."

"And what about Harry?" Hermione cried, following Ron as he led the way, "What about _his _life? Its bad enough as it is without him being cursed."

"Harry's happy." Ron pointed out, then relented, "But Harry's always like that. I knew he wouldn't be cursed though Hermione. I knew it."

"How?" Hermione snapped, looking irritated.

"Because he's Harry." Ron said simply. The royal family seemed puzzled by this response but Hermione seemed to understand the argument, because she sighed.

"He does more than try," she muttered and Ron nodded, approaching a house.

"This is it, your majesties." Ron told them, "Harry lives here."

Severus looked oddly determined as he stepped forward to do a simple, vital action.

And, raising a single hand, he knocked.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII  
_All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them  
_ IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"_BOY!_" Vernon yelled as Harry cleaned the family room, "Get the door!"

"Going!" Harry yelled back, smoothing down his rumpled clothes swiftly (back to wearing ones that didn't fit) before he opened the door.

He blinked.

Standing at the door was the whole of the royal family and, standing quite casually with them, Ron and Hermione. Startled, he bowed hastily before standing once more. He looked at them with interest before his eyes landed on the Prince and he was stunned motionless as he recognized that face.

It was Severus. Severus bloody Snape, adopted son of King Albus and Queen Minerva, Prince of all Hogwarts and the head of Slytherin house.

"Bloody hell." Harry whispered with a sigh, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

"Boy!" his uncle called, sounding closer now, "Who the hell is it?"

Despite himself, Harry flinched before calling back that it was the royal family.

Quite suddenly he was knocked roughly out of the way. Harry cried out in surprise as he stumbled and fell inside, wincing and glaring at his uncle's back when he landed.

"Excuse that boy, you majesties." he heard his uncle gush, "I gather you're here for Dudley?"

"Actually," said Severus, rather annoyed with how Harry had been treated, "We're here for Harry."

In a moment Harry found himself lifted by his collar and presented to the royal family in that manner. Harry frowned at his uncle, embarrassed beyond repair.

"What's the boy done now?" Vernon demanded, looking furious, "I assure you, your majesties, that he will be punished quite severely."

Unable to help himself Harry reached up and grabbed his uncle's hand (he was starting to have breathing problems). Vernon released him instantly, crying out as Harry used wandless magic to burn him.

"Why you little _brat_!" Vernon cried in rage, taking a swing at him. Nimbly, Harry ducked and backed up, quickly getting out of his uncle's way.

"Mr. Dursley!" Dumbledore cried, freezing them both, "That is quite enough! Harry, please show me your arms."

Harry blinked at how kind the King suddenly sounded and, hesitating (his friends were there, after all) he obeyed. Everyone barring Severus and Vernon gasped in shock at the bruises. By their shape there was no denying where they had come from.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, "Their awful!"

Harry, seeing her distress, broke the rules and used magic, his fingers brushing down each of his arms and healing them instantly. Hermione looked shocked.

"Why didn't you do that before?" She asked, grabbing his arms and examining them carefully.

"My beatings are worse if uncle Vernon notices any of my marks missing." Harry replied, shrugging, "Not worth the effort, really."

A hand grabbed him firmly and Harry found himself pulled close to a warm body. He stiffened instinctively before he relaxed, looking into the concerned gaze of Prince Severus and losing himself completely before he remembered who exactly it was that held him.

"Your highness," Harry murmured, bowing his head in submission.

A finger curled under his chin and lifted his face gently (almost reverently) so that his eyes once more met the penetrating gaze of the prince.

"Its Severus." Severus whispered. Wordlessly, Harry nodded, unable to do anything else. Then, arm still holding him securely, Severus turned to Vernon. He looked more dangerous than Harry had seen anyone ever be.

"Vernon Dursley." Severus purred, the tone sending shivers down the spine of everyone present, "I'd like to hear your explanation before I lock you away for child abuse."

"It not actually illegal." Harry cut in, as Vernon looked too terrified to talk, "I'm not really a servant but uncle Vernon can claim me as one. My chores are payment for their care and since there are no laws about the treatment of servant's, beatings could be seen as a justified punishment for not completing my chores to their satisfaction. Though servants, even ones in debt, are usually paid there's no law dictating the amount so they decided to pay me nothing. They haven't actually done anything wrong."

The royal family looked horrified at the man's blatant disrespect of the laws and Vernon cowered under their vengeful gazes.

"I'm sure we can find something to punish him for." Severus snarled, scowling darkly.

"What do you want with the boy, anyway?" Vernon demanded, "What do you plan to do to him?"

"Marry him." Severus said simply, and Harry's eyes flew to his.

"Me?" He cried in shock, "You want to marry _me_? No offence, your majesty, but are your sure you don't have a screw loose? Why on earth would _anyone_ want to marry me, not to mention someone like yourself?"

"Oh Harry, don't be silly. You're a wonderful person. Your just modest, not to mention your appalling lack of self esteem" Hermione chimed in, glaring at Vernon pointedly

"She's right, Harry." Severus told him gently, "You defy all my former beliefs."

"He has a habit of doing that," Ron agreed, nodding solemnly.

"I never believed in love at first sight until I saw you," Severus continued, ignoring Ron's comment, "And I would be honored if you agreed to marry me."

"Alright then" Harry agreed smiling, but shy. Severus turned to the King and Queen, arm tightening around Harry in a rather possessive fashion.

"Do I have your blessing?" He asked them bluntly, tugging Harry even closer. Harry relaxed into him, looking at him with his emotions completely bare.

"Of course." Dumbledore allowed instantly and Minerva nodded her agreement, looking tearful, "In my opinion you have rather excellent taste, my son."

"I know." Severus replied smugly. Harry blushed lightly and, quite suddenly; Severus tugged him forwards and into a kiss.

Harry gasped in surprise and Severus took advantage of this and invaded his mouth with his tongue. Relaxing into the kiss, Harry anchored himself by wrapping his arms around Severus' neck, in the eventuality that his legs would give out which was, from how they felt, a distinct possibility. Harry submitted completely to Severus, kissing him back with just as much passion, letting Severus lead without question. They eventually pulled apart with a sigh and Harry abruptly realized that everyone was staring at them. Blushing, he buried his head in Severus' chest. Severus, he saw when he peeked, looked rather satisfied with himself and kept his arms securely wrapped around Harry's waist.

"Well then," Minerva declared, breaking the moment, "I believe we've got a wedding to plan."

"Oh and Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said, as though just remembering him, "My guards will be back later to pick you up. Not bowing, challenging royalty, threatening the prince and questioning our judgment? You'll be given a rather nice home in the dungeon for a very long time, I assure you."

With that, eyes twinkling merrily, Dumbledore made his way to the carriage. Harry smiled as Severus lead him there, Ron and Hermione following behind them.

"Severus?" Harry asked curiously as they walked and Severus looked at him with raised a brow, arm never releasing his waist, "What happens now?"

"Now?" Severus echoed, obviously surprised, "Why, we live happily ever after, of course"

"That's a nice thing to say," Harry smiled, teasing him slightly.

"I'm not _nice_, Harry," Severus replied at once, as though deeply insulted "I'm honest. And that's the truth."

Harry had no problems believing him. It seemed he was going to have one hell of an interesting life and, at times, he was sure it wouldn't always be easy, or fun or even very happy. Life was hard, after all, and Harry was under no impressions that his would all be sunshine and roses.

But he was going to enjoy every darn minute of it

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**The End**  
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**A/N: **Okay, some answers. No there will not be a sequel. This is the be all and and all. Yes, I have other stories in process, most of which use this particular pairing. Yes, the poems are completely, 100 mine. No, the characters are not. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Any other questions and leave them in a review (the little button is right down the bottom there! You know you want to pres it! Go on!) and if not, leave one anyways. Its been a pleasure writing this story (and a shame its come to an end) and thanks once again to all those who left encouragement. It really helped.


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